Cotton Sheets

Hajime had to admit, despite the embarrassment of various preparations and the general awkwardness of their first few tries, there was something very nice about being in bed with Yuuta. Once he made up his mind to something, Yuuta had no self-consciousness Hajime had been able to discover, and he seemed perfectly content to lie in bed naked and discuss tennis while Hajime’s hands wandered over him.

“…so if we manage to take Hyoutei in Semifinals, we’ll be dealing with Fudoumine in Finals after lunch. It’ll be a hard day on everyone. Mmm.” Yuuta wriggled a little as Hajime stroked his stomach, muscles tightening under Hajime’s palm.

“You’ve trained hard for endurance, yes?” Hajime traced his fingers down the hollow of Yuuta’s hip; he thought he might never stop being fascinated with the texture of Yuuta. “It is a disadvantageous order, though. Fudoumine will be the greater threat, this year.” Especially since, from his information, Tachibana had chosen to coach his proteges in favor of actually playing this year.

“Then we’ll just have to see if we can beat them all,” Yuuta said, suddenly steely tone in direct contrast to his lazy stretch and return to fold his arms around Hajime, fingers smoothing over Hajime’s ribs.

Yuuta’s willingness to touch back was the other really nice thing, even if Hajime was still getting used to the whole idea. “I have confidence in you,” he murmured into the curve of Yuuta’s shoulder.

A quiet laugh brushed past his ear. “That’s one of the reasons I believe we can win, Mizuki-san.”

“Hmmm.” Hajime propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at Yuuta thoughtfully. “You know, all things considered, I think you might use my given name.” He leaned down again to stroke Yuuta’s lips apart with his tongue and demonstrate one of the things to be considered.

Apparently it was a good demonstration, because when he drew back, heat still curling through him, it took Yuuta a few breathless moments to murmur back, “Hajime-san…”

Hajime smiled; he liked the way his name sounded in Yuuta’s mouth. The way Yuuta’s tone made everything between them perfectly clear to anyone who might listen was a warm, satisfying weight in Hajime’s chest.

The brilliant smile that followed took him by surprise, though, and so did the way Yuuta’s arms tightened around him, drawing him down snugly against Yuuta’s body.

“Hajime-san,” Yuuta repeated against his neck, mouth soft.

Hajime shivered and swallowed. “Yuuta,” he answered, husky, before he got enough of a grip to laugh and spread a hand against the small of Yuuta’s back. “Ready again so soon?” he teased.

The low, pleased sound Yuuta made in answer, the flash of white teeth in a grin as he spread his legs against the white sheets, sent such a jolt of heat up Hajime’s spine he couldn’t breathe at all for a moment. Only pull Yuuta tighter against him and kiss him slow and deep.

He supposed, in the back of his mind, that the way he looked at Yuuta, turned towards Yuuta, would also make things perfectly clear to anyone with eyes. He was more or less resigned to that, if it made Yuuta answer him so powerfully, so purely.

If old fears still nagged at him to keep his face smooth and impenetrable, to seek the perfection that was cool and sure and safe, Yuuta’s wild, spendthrift excellence had tempted him not to mind the danger. To reach for fire and chance instead, to ride them the way he rode Yuuta’s body and savor their sharp pleasures.